Gold
by Kimiz
Summary: He had left behind an aggressive, hard-headed, insubordinate warrior princess. Now, he was met with a queen, in every sense of the word. And yet, he could see that same fierceness in her eyes, the same blazing fire he had seen in that bratty child shining through the eyes of the woman. His daughter. Temari. Redemption, he found out, was made of gold. Implied ShikaTema


**A/N**: Hey! So, this story... I have… No idea where it came from. I have this serious problem, I suck at holding a grudge, I always end up forgiving people and consequently, characters. And I love to make the Yondaime kazekage the bad guy, but I just thought that, you know, he'd repent. He seemed really sorry when he fought Gaara in the war, and I love to imagine what he would think of grown up Temari, since she would be so much different from the bratty girl she probably was. Enjoy!

**Gold**

She was made of gold. It was the first thought that came to mind when he put his eyes on her. Sandy colored curls glinting in the afternoon light, tanned skin, eyes that shone green like the sea he had only seen once in his entire life. She had a lovely face, sharp features smoothed over by the glow of her smile. She was older now, as old as he'd been when she had been born, no longer the awkward teenager he had left to fend for herself and her brothers when he had abruptly left this world. No, she wasn't that young blossoming beauty he had caught a glimpse of in the battlefield in that gods damned war. She was a grown woman, at the apex of her beauty, of her person. Time had been kind to her, it had only brought out the features that had always been there, hidden behind a scowl, battle gear and layers and layers of sarcasm and self-protection. He had only ever seen such beauty before once.

She looked so much like her mother. His wife, his beautiful wife of kind smiles and voice of a nightingale. Those green eyes of love and forgiveness and unwavering faith. She had been a queen in her time, adored by her people, _his_ people, the perfect queen to his king. She had given him her heart and soul, sunny kisses to fight away the darkness of his days, a shield and sword when he tried to be the knight. She had given him a princess and two princes. He'd given her fairytale a twist, and a "miserably ever after", became the villain of the household when he should've been the hero.

She was no longer a princess, no longer the bratty child who would wreck havoc all over the place, no longer the stubborn girl who had stormed into his office and demanded to be enrolled in the Academy like her brothers, no longer the teenager that held her tongue, but met his orders with a burning fire in her eyes that conveyed all she wasn't allowed to say. He had left behind an aggressive, hard-headed, insubordinate warrior princess. Now, he was met with a queen. Shoulders back, chin up, grace in every step she took, a smile to whoever paid her homage. A queen in every sense of the word. And yet, he could see that same fierceness in her eyes, the same blazing fire he had seen in that bratty child shining through the eyes of the woman. She glowed so golden, she looked like a million suns.

Temari. His daughter.

A sudden shriek called him back to the reality before him. A little girl had come running towards her, cheeks rosy and dark eyes glinting in mischief. She had her blonde curls, her small round nose, she was almost an exact replica of the toddler his daughter had been. She clutched her leg giggling and extended her arms toward the woman.

"Mommy!" the little girl squealed.

"Hello, flower, did you have fun with dad?" she answered, picking her up, the golden glint of the ring on her finger catching his eye for the first time. It surprised him.

She sounded so different, so mature, and so, so tender. The look in her eyes too, was filled with an impossible warmth as she glanced at the little girl, playfully bumping her nose against hers in eskimo kisses. His unbeating heart seemed to come to life for a moment. He couldn't help the surprise overtaking him, or the fluttering in his heart. She had married. Despite all the damage he had done her and her brothers, she had married. She had children. He had torn their family apart time and time again, and yet, she had found it in her to rise above it. She had created her own, different, and better and real. She loved it, it was clear in the way she smiled at her daughter, soft, and warm, and full of love, how that fire in her eyes would burn brighter with passion when she mentioned her husband, how tenderly she caressed their child, running her finger down her nose playfully while she babbled on about all the cookies the chuunin had given her in 'Uncle Gaara's' office. She gently grabbed her daughter's chin and turned her face to the side to clean a chocolate smudge with a chuckle.

That was when the little girl's eyes met his. She was looking at him, not right through him, but rather, at him. She opened her mouth and clutched her mother's blouse.

"Look, mommy! It's grandpa!" his heart stopped for the third time ever. Temari turned to her and scrunched her eyebrows.

"Where? Are Uncle Inoichi and Uncle Chouza with him?" the little girl shook her head furiously, pointing right at him.

"Not grandpa 'kaku! The _other _grandpa!" Temari laughed at her.

"Sweetheart, that grandpa isn't here anymore, remember? You just saw someone who looks like him. Now let's go look for daddy and Hana, alright?"

"But I saw him!" she insisted, stubborn as her own mother.

"Maybe it was Uncle Kuro. He looks a lot like that grandpa." The little girl looked dubiously from where he was standing, too close for her mother not to see him, but seemingly not wanting to contradict her. Her eyes widened then, and she looked around frantically, as if she was searching for something. "What is it, Uo?"

"He's not here anymore." She mumbled crossly, that one had a temper. His daughter simply chuckled, dissmissing it as a child's imagination.

"How about we go see dad in Uncle Gaara's office and see if there's any of those cookies left?" the child's dark chocolate eyes lit up, forgetting all about him, but it had been enough. Enough for him.

He hadn't cried in a long time, but he wanted to in that moment. After everything he had done, after all the ways he had messed them up… He had thought they would never forgive him. He had thought he would deserve their hatred. And yet… That child, his grandchild, knew who he was. They had told her who he was, told her he was her grandfather, after all the mistakes in his life, all the wrong he had done them, they hadn't erased him from their family. They had found it in them to forgive him. He laughed, something he hadn't done in a long time, he laughed and cried at the same time, rubbing his eyes with his hands, but the tears just kept coming, until he was sobbing in relief.

When he opened his eyes, he was in a different place. A campfire sparkling in front of him in the middle of the desert he had loved, it was a dark night, it should be freezing, but he felt strangely fine, and he could see the stars. He thought then, surprisingly calmly, that dying this second time around wasn't that bad. He pondered, he pondered a lot of things for a long while, in that endless desert night. He had moments filled with regret, shame, guilt, he could finally grieve for his loved ones, for his ruined generation, for all the ruining he did on the next. He didn't have to worry, there was no weight to carry on his shoulders now, he was finally free. He thought about his wife, his children, his village. He could finally appreciate the humor in his two eldests' pranks, could finally feel the affection of his youngest, could finally remember all the reasons he had fallen in love with his wife. For the first time ever, he was in peace.

And one day, when he had ran out of tears and ran out of laughter, he woke up to a familiar sight. A cascade of sandy blonde hair brushing across his face, the warm and ticklish feeling of fingers tracing his features. That kind, loving smile he thought he had forgotten. Those dark green eyes he had fallen in love with, staring down at him with softness, and tenderness, but most of all, forgiveness.

"I have missed you, love." Her nightingale voice sounded in his ears, just like he remembered it.

Redemption, he found out, was made of gold.

A/N: I know, I know… But let's face it. Karura is such a good person she would still love him. Even all fucked up and crazy as he was. And implied ShikaTema for the win! I actually started writing this because I thought about Uotani saying her grandpa was there and you know, it'd be Shikaku, cause he's Shikamaru's dad, and that implied ShikaTema-ness. Yeah, I know, I don't understand me either. Hope you liked it!


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